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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630587">The Sun Always Shines</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreculturelesspop/pseuds/moreculturelesspop'>moreculturelesspop</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Always Female Dean Winchester, Blood and Gore, Childbirth, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Infant Death, Male Castiel/Female Dean Winchester, PTSD, Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreculturelesspop/pseuds/moreculturelesspop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t,” she cries, “It’s coming now. I’m having a baby in an abandoned parking lot.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sun Always Shines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some graphic birth descriptions and mentions on infant death which could be possibly triggering.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>The sun will always shine</h1><p>It was supposed to be a milk run. Pick up some goods, get out the bunker for a few hours and go home before Cas noticed she was out. She didn’t feel great, she hadn’t for a good seven months. Her joints felt painful, her pelvis heavy and she was permanently nauseous. She hated the way people watched her waddle around Walmart, staring at her compact yet heavy bump, asking to touch it. To start with she loved her little bump, it took a while to pop, but once she stopped looking like she’d eaten a big dinner she found her belly quite sexy. She loved rubbing it, loved when Cas rubbed it more and then all the other pains and pressure started.</p><p>On her way to there was a job. There always was a job. Sure, Chuck was dead, but there were always some nasty waiting to be ganked. It was just one lone vamp, a pretty easy job. She was driving on the highway when she sees a little kid run into the road. She was bleeding and shaken. Every maternal instinct Deanna was sure she didn’t have kicks in.</p><p>The vamp is killed within the hour. She may be slow but her senses were sharp. She barely noticed the twinges and pains in her belly, they’ve been happening most days since 24 weeks. Honestly, most days she felt like this baby was going to fall out of her. The little girl waits in the car as she hunts, when she comes back she is fast asleep in the passenger seat.</p><p>“I hope mine is as cute as yours,” Deanna whispers. She gets a sharp pang in response. A typical Winchester, couldn’t take any form of a compliment. She wakes up the little girl who tells her where she lives.</p><p>“Are you going to be a mommy?” she asks, looking at her swollen stomach.</p><p>“Yeah,” she smiles. It was still a strange thought, after all those years, that she was going to have a child with a former angel she had once tried to stab. All those late periods, gas and sip bathroom pregnancy tests and serious injuries.</p><p>“Are you okay?” the mother asks. She didn’t realise she has been rubbing her belly and making faces, up their driveway.</p><p>“Not since the test went blue,” she responds. She still accepts the seat on the couch and a drink of cool water. She lays her hand flat against the swell of her belly, clad in a flannel shirt, and feels her baby flutter beneath her fingertips. She’d miss that feeling, knowing they were safe as they performed star jumps inside her</p><p>“How far along are you?”</p><p>“Two weeks left, my other half will kill me when they find out I’ve been out this long without him,” she tells the little girl’s mother. “He’s been antsy since I hit six months.”</p><p>Her belly feels especially tight when the little girl hugs her goodbye. She struggles to lean down to hug her. She texts Cas and tells him she’s on her way home, it was easier to not mention the hunt. Her belly twinges when she climbs in the Impala. “We’ll see Daddy soon,” she whispers, rubbing at her belly in broad strokes. She feels the muscle tighten under her touch. “Fuck being a woman,” she scolds. She feels her phone vibrate through her jacket as she puts the keys in the ignition.</p><p>“Hey, Cas,” she answers. She puts the phone on speaker and tosses it onto the passenger seat.</p><p>“Dee!” he scolds, “Where were you?”</p><p>“We ran out of pie. I’m pregnant, not on house arrest. Ow!” she clutches her belly at the sharp pain. Ignoring it, she turns the ignition keys and starts to drive to the bunker.</p><p>“Ow! Did you say ow?” Cas shouts.</p><p>“Chill. Your kid is acting like an asshole today.”</p><p>“You need to stop calling him my child when he is kicking. Are you in pain?”</p><p>“It feels like he’s about to stick his hand out and wave. Fuck.” She clutches the steering wheel as the pain borders on the unbearable.</p><p>“Stay there, I’ll come and get you.”</p><p>“Don’t you fucking dare!” she shouts. She drives, clutching onto the wheel, for another fifteen minutes before it becomes unbearably painful. She feels physically sick and little dots are clouding her vision. She turns off the highway at the next exit, ending up parked behind an abandoned garage. “My water!” she gasps. She can feel the liquid pooling between her thighs, darkening on her yoga pants. “Fuck, this hurts.”</p><p>“Park somewhere safe and stay there until we get there. I’m going to call 911.” She tries to describe her location to him, but she realises that she’s sobbing she hard down the phone he can barely understand her words. She can hear him rushing around, shouting to Sam and Jack, and dropping things around the bunker. She leans in and sobs against the steering wheel, wave after wave of pain running through her body. There is barely any time to breathe between contractions.</p><p>“I can’t do this,” she cries, leaning back against the seat.</p><p>“You can, just listen to your body, we’ll be there soon,” Cas tells her, sounding miraculously calm. “He’ll be in your arms soon, hold in there.” </p><p>“Cas, I think I can feel the head.”</p><p>“Try to lie down or on your side,” he says. She tries to shift, the movement making the baby drop down even further. She manages to lean against the door and lift her legs up on the seat. She moves into her back, her back against the door and her legs stretched out in front of her on the front seat. She tries to wiggle out of her yoga pants, every movement makes her feel her baby’s head drop down. She gets her yoga pants to her knees, before giving up. She stuffs his hands in her panties and feels the bulge of her baby’s head. She can breathe again, her baby no longer by her lungs. </p><p>“Cas, I can’t do this without you.”</p><p>“I’m here,” he says. In all the wiggling, she has kicked her phone onto the floor. She can hear his muffled voice coming up from under the seat of the Impala. She takes a deep breath; she could do high pressured situations, she could act quickly, she was trained to be prepared. She had spent her whole life preparing for the unexpected, she could do this. She grunts again at the pain, her body squeezing by itself. It was the lack of control she couldn’t do. She tries to relax but her body is acting on its own accord.</p><p>“I need to push,” she gasps. The pressure is unbearable against her, she grips onto the seat and grits her teeth in pain.</p><p>“Don’t do that!” he shouts. “Avoid pushing, pant, just relax.” Relax, she snorts, relax, when a human life was threatening to split her open.</p><p>“I can’t,” she cries, “It’s coming now. I’m having a baby in an abandoned parking lot.”</p><p>“We’re in the car, we’ll be with you soon.” She hopes Sam is driving, Cas sounds a mess.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she whimpers, a tear falling from her eye. She shuts him off, ignoring his stressed tone, and concentrates on delivering her son. She digs the heels of her boots into the leather of the leather, wishing she had the energy to take them and her pants off and bears down. Her body was going to do it whether she wanted to or not. She reaches in her panties again, as the contraction ease, feeling the way her body was stretching around the top of her baby’s head. She tries to lift her body up and pulls the panties down to her ankles. Her thighs are slick with blood and bodily fluids.</p><p>She grips at the seat as she follows her body’s instincts to push. She’s making deep guttural noises she has heard no human make before. She tries to pant and not push but her body has other ideas. Suddenly the baby’s head is burning through her, splitting her pelvis apart, and she screams. Her baby slides out of her violently with a rush of blood and water. He lies in a puddle of fluids on the leather of the seat and she stares at him in shock. No slow crowning and stretching like Cas has been telling her about for the last six months. No hours of labor and hypnobirthing tapes. He makes a spluttering sound and opens up his eyes, bright blue eyes like his daddy.</p><p>“He’s a boy, he’s so little,” she sobs. She carefully strokes his chest with her index finger and he stares up at her, squinting like he’s already disappointed in her. He wasn’t born in a safe, cosy, warm hospital bed and he should have been. She has already failed him. He’s not crying or screaming, he barely responds to her touch. She strokes his nose and earns a scowl, not a cry.</p><p>“Keep him warm, we’ll be there soon,” he says. He’s crying, she can hear it in his voice. All blankets are in the trunk and the backseat has nothing on it. She takes the spluttering baby and holds him to her chest, feeling the umbilical cord against her. She unbuttons her shirt and slips him inside it, hoping that between the flannel and her breast he would stay safe. She buttons the shirt up over him, engulfing his body.</p><p>“Hey, baby. I’m your mommy,” she whispers. She can feel his fist against her maternity bra, his body slick and cold with fluids. She still feels liquid gushing from between her legs and she leans against the cool glass of the door, waiting. Her body is going into shock, she knows the feeling, the chills and the blurred vision.</p><p>It seems like forever until the passenger door opens and Cas is crawling on the floor to try to reach them. “Deanna,” he calls quietly. His eyes are red, and his voice still panicked. She feels too tired and weak to be able to look at him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she mutters. Her hand is on the back of her son’s head, led limply against her body, quiet and still. The car is covered in blood, it smells like a crime scene and her privates are on display to anyone walking past. Cas slowly unbuttons her shirt, to reveal their son's little trembling body.  </p><p>“Hey, sweetheart,” he says. He takes off his trench coat and wraps their son in it, rubbing at his back.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, a tear falling down her face.</p><p>“He’s an impatient and stubborn Winchester,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. He turns around and shouts something behind him. Sam has pulled a knife from the trunk and sterilized it with the medical kit. Cas cuts the cord and hands the instruments back to Sam.</p><p>“Are they okay?” Sam asks, somewhere in the distance.</p><p>“I think she’s in shock,” he replies. She clings tight to the life hidden in the trench coat on her chest. “Can I hold him?” She nods and eases her grip, allowing him to take him in his arms. He beams down at his son, whose face is scrunched tightly. “Jack!” he shouts. “Meet your little brother.” Jack perches on the end of the passenger seat and takes his brother in his arms. Cas helps him hold him safely, supporting his head correctly.</p><p>“Is he okay?” Jack asks, looking down at him.</p><p>“Just a little cold and shocked. He came a little quickly. Take him to the other car, turn the heating on and help him warm up.”</p><p>Jack and her son disappear out of sight and Cas’ lips are suddenly on her head. He’s kissing her forehead and gripping her hand, “We have to deliver the placenta,” he says in an unnervingly calm voice.</p><p>“I can’t,” she whines, with chattering teeth. He starts kneading at her belly, pushing against the soft skin. She closes her eyes again and leans back with a sigh. Her body starts to contract again as he squeezes at her belly. She feels the needs to push again as he starts flicking her nipples. It seems a strange thing to do, but she knows Cas is doing it for a reason. Something slimy falls between her legs. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she misses feeling him against her chest, misses hearing the little splutters of her son.</p><p>“He’s fine, a little cold, Jack is warming him up. You did so well, Dee," She’s bleeding, she can feel and smell it. She’s also struggling to keep hold of consciousness, now her child is gone. She closes her eyes and lets Cas rush around trying to clean up the crime scene between her thighs. “Stay with me, Dee,” he calls, squeezing her hand.</p><p>“I fucked up,” she murmurs. She loses consciousness around then, the smell of blood lingering in her nostrils. She feels strong arms pick her up, a hand pulling at the bundle of slick clothing between her legs.  Sam is laying her out on the cool, clean back seat. She recognizes those strong, long arms. It feels good to stretch out her legs, but her arms feel empty without her son in them. A soft hand touches her hip, grace runs through her body, heating up her pelvis. She remembers the first time Cas healed her, the first time she felt his grace running through her body.</p><p>She realises her eyes are open the whole trip, but she can’t focus on everything. The leather of the Impala is a blur to her. Cas is driving and the passenger seat is empty, this would have brought her terror this morning but now she had no care about who was driving her Baby. She felt empty, beaten up and bruised inside. She’s stopped bleeding, but she can smell the aftermath of the birth in the car. She’d never get that blood out the leather. She knew she should have but blankets down that morning in case.</p><p>Her baby isn’t in the car, no doubt dead in Jack’s arms. It feels cruel to not let her be with him in their final hours. She wants him to be buried in Lawrence, she hopes Cas knows that, but its not something you put in the birth plan.</p><p>The car door opens and Cas is talking to her. She can’t make out what he’s saying, something about shock and sleeping. She can’t bring herself to ask him to repeat it. He carries her to their bed, the unused hospital bag on the floor, the bassinet in the corner to never be used, the plastic sheet rolled up under the bed in preparation for a home birth.</p><p>She has nightmares. She sees her dead child fall out of her on repeat, every version more and more warped. At first, he is cold and blue, then he is glowing blue with grace, then he is warped and twisted with a face of pure evil, next he has the teeth of a werewolf, and it goes on and on.</p><p>She wakes up in a cold sweat, her body shaking with chills. She regrets sitting up so quickly, her empty belly like jello. Cas is sat in nothing but sweatpants beside her in bed, a baby curled up on his naked chest asleep.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he hushes, one hand outstretched, the other protecting the baby.</p><p>“Am I dead?” she hazily asks. The scene was too perfect. Cas, looking as gorgeous as the day she tried to stab him, and their perfect son together in their bedroom.</p><p>“No one is dead,” he says gently, with a smile. “You want to see your mommy? Dee, take your shirt off to get skin to skin contact.” Someone has changed her into a clean, baggy shirt that probably belonged to a guy she had once met at a bar. Only then does she notice the wet patches on her breasts. She strips herself of her shirt, noticing the way her breasts have changed shape, and takes her son in her arms.</p><p>“I thought you were dead,” she says, shedding a tear. “He wasn’t hurt, wasn’t he?” He’s smaller than she could ever imagine, with big blue eyes and dark hair. He already looks like his dad with his furrowed brow and full lips.</p><p>“No, a little cold and in shock. You, on the other hand, I was so scared.”</p><p>“I thought I killed him,” she says. She traces his face, trying to remember every part of him.</p><p>“You were in shock. You were bleeding and haemorrhaging so much,” he takes a gulp, like the rest of the sentence is too much to say.</p><p>“I’m here, I feel like I’ve lost a fight to three vamp nests, but I’m here,” she reassures him, before leaning in for a kiss. “You were worth it, James,” she says to her son.</p><p>“James Samuel Winchester,” Cas smiles.</p>
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